Experience in itself wasn’t enough. The diary was my defense against waking up at the end of my life and realizing I’d missed it.

If I'm not writing a thing, depression might be looming.

Around you move many seas. It is impossible not to drown a little.

Chair or no chair: a binary relation. But the vicissitudes of moving the body around are infinite. You never know what a person in a chair can do.

Perhaps all anxiety might derive from a fixation on moments - an inability to accept life as ongoing.

The best thing about time passing is the privilege of running out of it, of watching the wave of mortality break over me and everyone I know.

This is suffering's lesson: pay attention. The important part might come in a form you do not recognize.